


in name only

by thunderylee



Category: Sexy Zone
Genre: Canon Universe, Facials, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-19
Updated: 2013-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-16 02:22:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12333543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: All Kento wanted was for Fuuma to say his first name.





	in name only

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck.

“I have a problem,” Kento says firmly once the hotel door closes, and Fuuma lifts an eyebrow without looking away from his phone.

“Go to Shori,” Fuuma replies, not bothering to hide the smirk on his face, and that pisses off Kento even more. “He’s the problem-solver around here.”

“Shori has nothing to do with it,” Kento says clearly, and _that_ gets Fuuma’s attention. “My problem is with you.”

Sighing loudly, Fuuma puts down his phone and turns to face Kento. He’s lounging on the bed, so he really only turns his head, but it’s good enough for Kento, who crawls onto the bed and hovers over him.

“Yes?” Fuuma asks, unintimidated. Anyone else would cower a little, because Kento has a reputation of being a bit scary, but this one doesn’t seem to be affected at all.

Even though he’s the one who should be affected the most.

“I don’t like how you address me,” Kento tells him, trying not to pout. Whining to get his way is Fuuma’s specialty, not his.

“Nakajima-sama?” Fuuma suggests, his smirk getting bigger. “President Nakajima? The honorable Nakajima—”

Kento doesn’t usually get violent, but something inside him snaps and his fist goes right for Fuuma’s hair, grabbing a good chunk of it and yanking it toward him. “ _Use my first name_.”

There’s a sudden flash in Fuuma’s eyes, his body visibly shuddering, but all he does is swallow hard and lick his lips. “Kento.”

His tone is huskier than any musical note, and all at once Kento knows what’s happening here, inhaling sharply as he considers his options. He could laugh at Fuuma and make fun of him for reacting this way…or he could take advantage of it.

“Again,” Kento breathes, tightening his grip on Fuuma’s curls. “I want you to make up for all the times you didn’t say it before.”

This time Fuuma gasps, his parted lips so inviting. Yeah, Kento’s definitely going to keep playing this game and see what happens.

“If you want me to say your name,” Fuuma says in his low voice, “you’re going to have to earn it.”

Kento tilts his head and studies Fuuma’s face, then yanks on Fuuma’s hair as hard as he can. The noise that escapes Fuuma’s lips is beautiful, going right up Kento’s spine and down to where he’s becoming more and more approving of giving into Fuuma’s challenge.

He’d pulled so hard that Fuuma’s head leans all the way back, exposing his throat, and Kento doesn’t think twice before leaning in and pressing his lips to the skin, smiling at the way Fuuma’s adam’s apple jumps under his touch.

“Like this?” Kento asks facetiously, his other hand trailing down the thin cotton of Fuuma’s pajama shirt. He crawls halfway on top of Fuuma in the process and the body beneath his jerks when Kento slips his hand under the fabric, brushing Fuuma’s sides with his cold fingers.

“You’re gonna have to do more than that,” Fuuma says. He’s trying to look tough, Kento knows, but he’s a mess already, squirming from the light touches and wanting more.

Kento uses his teeth and nips at Fuuma’s neck, pulling another one of those moans that he feels against his lips. “While these noises are nice, that’s not what I wanna hear,” he mumbles, not recognizing the depth his own voice. He must be _really_ worked up.

“Kento,” Fuuma says, and Kento hums in contentment. “Come up here.”

Kento makes a questioning sound as he lifts his head, but all he gets is a brief glance of the intense look in Fuuma’s eyes before there’s a hand on his jaw, closing the distance between them. Fuuma kisses like he’s proving a point, and maybe he is as Kento skips a breath and gets a little lightheaded at the way Fuuma’s lips feel against his.

Hands splay all over Kento’s back and he rolls the rest of the way on top of Fuuma, who embraces him welcomingly. Kento can feel all of the sharp angles of Fuuma’s body, the hard muscles of his abdomen and thighs as Kento presses them flush together, giving into his instinctual desire to be as close as possible.

Then Kento shifts a knee between Fuuma’s legs and Fuuma’s deep groan is echoing in his head before Kento realizes what had summoned it. He does it again, leaning up to rub his knee against the growing bulge in Fuuma’s pants, and Kento gasps at Fuuma’s tongue shoving its way in his mouth, luring out Kento’s.

It’s all Kento can do to keep up, holding his own as well as someone on top should, though he’s now squeezing Fuuma’s hair out of frustration instead of malice. Both of Fuuma’s hands drop to Kento’s ass and Kento’s involuntary reflex is to snap his hips, making them both groan as he becomes very aware of his own aroused state.

“You like me pulling your hair so much?” Kento gets out when they break for air, never actually leaving Fuuma’s skin as he trails lips down Fuuma’s jaw. “I didn’t think you were such a masochist.”

“I like _you_ ,” Fuuma replies, and it’s so point-blank that Kento doesn’t even react more than a quick blink of his eyes.

“Is that so,” he says intelligently, because what do you even say to that? He just kisses his way to Fuuma’s ear, sucking a little on the lobe and Fuuma’s earring while Fuuma encourages him by arching his spine. “I like you, too.”

It just comes out, as natural as anything, and the warmth that floods him following the admission makes it true. He’ll sort out his actual feelings later, when his mind isn’t clouded by lust, but he’s entirely certain that this isn’t just a tryst between bandmates, or even friends. He pulls back to return to Fuuma’s mouth, kissing him harder than before as he brings his legs together between Fuuma’s and really grinds down against him.

Fuuma’s moans are intoxicating, along with the little shudders of his body beneath Kento’s as they move, Fuuma quickly rocking up in contrast. The temperature rises so fast that Kento’s suffocating in his clothes, reaching back to pull his shirt over his head without any prior thought. Even still he’s burning up, sweating all over both of them, but the next time Kento’s hand returns to Fuuma’s chest it’s on bare skin.

Fuuma feels just as good as he looks, defined ridges and flesh that quivers under Kento’s fingertips. Kento could touch him all day, maybe will do exactly that sometime in the near future, but for now he wants to feel everything at once, with only one hand since the other is lodged firmly in Fuuma’s hair. Fuuma seems to be of the same opinion, both of his hands all over Kento’s back and chest, igniting little shocks under Kento’s skin everywhere they make contact.

“Kento,” Fuuma whispers, and Kento groans so low that it vibrates his own throat. “I want you.”

The groan continues as Kento reaches down, untying the drawstring from Fuuma’s pajama pants and slipping his hand inside. He finds Fuuma hard and leaking, his thumb smearing the precome at the tip as his fingers wrap around the shaft.

“How do you want me?” Kento asks, forcing himself to pull back enough to look down at Fuuma’s face. It’s worth the effort, Fuuma’s lips shining while his cheeks tint pink, eyes barely open. It’s probably the hottest thing Kento’s ever seen in his life, making him bite his lip to keep from rubbing against Fuuma even more pointedly.

“Like this,” Fuuma answers, lifting his knees up the outsides of Kento’s thighs for emphasis. “If you think you can do it.”

Kento narrows his eyes at that, seeing that smirk return even in this position. “Oh, I can do it,” he says firmly, squeezing Fuuma’s cock even harder. “I’ll fuck you so hard that all you know is my name.”

Fuuma inhales sharply, clearly pleased with the threat as his hands drop to the waistband of Kento’s own pants, shoving them down. Kento jumps at the opportunity to do away with the final barriers keeping them from being completely skin to skin, diving back into Fuuma’s mouth the second Fuuma drags knuckles along the length of his cock.

“Do you have anything?” he breathes against Fuuma’s lips, deciding not to mock the younger man when he nods. They have to separate long enough for Fuuma to grab his bag, but that just makes it even stronger when they come back together and Fuuma presses a small bottle into Kento’s palm.

“Kento,” he says as he lifts his knees even higher, spreading himself open. “You don’t know how many times I’ve thought about your fingers like this. When you play the piano…”

A shiver attacks Kento at those words, strong enough to make him jerk as he attempts to lube the aforementioned fingers without spilling it all over the place like a nervous virgin.

“I should have known you’d have a filthy mouth,” he mutters under his breath, trying to sound aggravated about it, but his tone gives him away.

Fuuma has the decency not to point that out, though, just pulls him down for another kiss as Kento drags those fingers up the inside of his thigh. Fuuma’s moans tickle Kento’s tongue and erase all thoughts of teasing as he approaches the area where Fuuma’s already clenching for him, gasping at the first touch to the rim. He’s already a mess and Kento loves it, carefully circling the puckered hole before slipping his middle finger inside.

Fuuma tosses his head back, leaving Kento with nothing but Fuuma’s throat, and once again Kento has no problem mouthing the skin as he stretches Fuuma enough for the forefinger. Once both are comfortably snug, he crooks them and searches around until Fuuma arches beneath him, choking on a breath.

“Mm, there?” Kento asks, and Fuuma nods. “Fuck, you’re so hot like this.”

“ _Kento_ ,” Fuuma gets out, a moan and a whine combined into one breath, and Kento will recall this moment every time Fuuma says his first name forevermore. “Feels so good, Kento.”

Kento stretches up to Fuuma’s ear, licking the shell while gently prodding that spot with his fingers. “Do you want more?”

Fuuma just nods, damp bangs sticking to his face while the rest of his hair splays on the ugly hotel bedspread. Kento’s fingers itch to pull it again, maybe it hurts more when it’s wet, but all he does is push his ring finger inside Fuuma, groaning along with Fuuma at how tight it is. Fuuma doesn’t seem in any pain, though, pushing back against Kento’s three fingers when he stalls for too long.

“Kento, please,” Fuuma breathes, and god it just keeps sounding better and better in that voice. “I want you. _Now_.”

“Fuuma,” Kento gasps, not missing how Fuuma reacts to hearing his name like this. “Do you want me to wear a condom?”

“No,” Fuuma says firmly, shaking his head enough for his bangs to fly into his face again, and this time Kento can’t resist pushing them back with his clean hand. “Dammit, Kento, don’t make me beg. I’m saying your fucking name like you want me to, you narcissistic bastard, and—”

It happens without Kento’s active instruction, his fingers curling and yanking roughly, pulling a noise from Fuuma’s lungs so loud that he fears the people in the next room will call security. Fuuma’s thighs wrap around Kento’s waist, pushing back against the fingers of Kento’s other hand so fast that he’s practically fucking himself on them, and Kento lets out a whine as the arousal plaguing him becomes too much.

All at once he withdraws from Fuuma’s body, only staying away long enough to slather his cock with lube. Then he’s pushing inside Fuuma without a word, just a groan that cuts itself off as Kento becomes completely surrounded by Fuuma, muscles squeezing him all over.

“Kento.” Fuuma’s voice is gone, only air remaining. “Fuck me, Kento. Do it hard.”

That’s the last thing coherent thing Kento knows before he does exactly that, burying his face into Fuuma’s neck to muffle his noises. He’s not usually loud, but he can’t stop the noises from coming out, everything is just _too much_ to keep it inside. He starts off slow, pulling almost all the way out just to thrust back in, feeling how Fuuma tenses beneath him when he hits a good spot.

“Kento,” Fuuma breathes, only audible because his mouth is right next to Kento’s ear. “Kento, Kento, _Kento_.”

The chant continues as Kento speeds up, gripping onto Fuuma’s shoulder blades and gasping as his breath gets away from him. Their skin slides together from their combined sweat, making it easier to go even faster, as much as he doesn’t want to. It feels so good that he wants it to last as long as possible, though that’s not amounting to much as the pressure starts to accumulate within him far too soon.

“Feels good,” Fuuma goes on, his voice sending a shiver down Kento’s spine. “How you’re clinging to me, too. I love seeing you fall apart for me.”

“If you can still talk, I’m not doing it good enough,” Kento grumbles, and Fuuma’s halfway through a chuckle when Kento snaps his hips as roughly as he can, making Fuuma choke on his air. His legs wrap even tighter around Kento and Kento feels even more surrounded, his whole being instead of just his cock, lips dragging along Fuuma’s neck in the best form of intimacy he can manage right now.

Fuuma’s noises get higher, louder, nails starting to dig into Kento’s back so firmly that Kento hopes there aren’t any shirtless photoshoots in his immediate future. It has Kento moving even faster, far beyond the point of holding back, and he struggles to detach his hand from Fuuma’s body to shove it between them.

“ _Kento_ ,” Fuuma moans, trembling beneath him as Kento strokes Fuuma’s cock in time with his thrusts, reaching his limit when Fuuma’s body constricts unbearably around him. “Wanna feel you come.”

Kento’s groan precedes his reflexes, which are to give into his primal desire to mate and fuck Fuuma into the mattress. He doesn’t make it much longer, all of his sweat cooling to a sharp chill as he lets go, holding onto Fuuma as tightly as he can. The soft breath of Fuuma’s name is almost an afterthought, though it comes naturally as his brain rebuilds itself and he becomes aware of Fuuma’s trembling aroused state.

Using the last of his energy, he pushes himself up enough to brush a kiss across Fuuma’s panting lips before going down, hands gently smoothing down the overactive muscles of Fuuma’s thighs. Fuuma’s nipples are hard, twitching under his tongue and undoubtedly continuing to stimulate when Kento leaves them wet and moves on.

Fuuma’s abdomen quivers at the first hint of Kento’s lips, which drag along Fuuma’s waistline in an ultimate tease while his fingers loosely wrap around Fuuma’s length. More puffs of Kento’s name drift down, a gentle push of his hair out of his face and the weight of a hand that rests on his head, waiting. Kento’s still buzzing from his orgasm, so everything Fuuma does still feels really good, encouraging him to drop down even more and lick the wet head of Fuuma’s cock.

“Kento, please,” Fuuma gasps out, now desperate as his fingers curl loosely in Kento’s hair. “I’m so close.”

“Soon,” Kento replies, pressing the word into Fuuma’s shaft as he tongues the length of it, though he knows damn well he wouldn’t be able to make it if they were reversed. He lowers a hand to play with Fuuma’s balls and earns a low groan, Fuuma’s hips bucking up so sharply that Kento almost gets smacked in the face, but he just mouths his way back up to the tip and barely takes it into his mouth.

“ _Shit_ ,” Fuuma hisses out, his full body shuddering violently as he tries to push Kento down, but Kento isn’t quick enough to take Fuuma’s cock back into his mouth before the first squirt of come splashes his chin. He gets the rest of it, though, hollowing his cheeks to suck Fuuma though his orgasm, swallowing the rest and not stopping until Fuuma softens and whines, tugging him away.

“You came on my _face_ ,” Kento grumbles as he flops onto Fuuma’s abdomen, too exhausted to make the effort to crawl back up his body.

“You deserved that,” Fuuma replies, totally breathless, though his fingers feel nice stroking Kento’s hair. “Don’t be a tease.”

“It’s what I do best,” Kento says, grinning in the general direction of up despite the strain on his neck. It’s worth it when he opens his eyes to see Fuuma’s face, though, breath heaving as he stares down at Kento like he’s never seen anything like him, like Kento is some kind of mirage or surreal being.

The intensity in Fuuma’s eyes has Kento actually moving, grabbing onto Fuuma’s shoulders as he pulls himself up and crashes their lips together, no words needed as they ride out the rest of their highs together. Fuuma dips down to lick up the mess on Kento’s chin and Kento groans again, sucking lightly on Fuuma’s tongue when it returns to his mouth. Then Fuuma lifts his arms to embrace Kento and it’s the best feeling in the world, being held so tightly while kissing so slowly, no urgency behind it now that they’ve satisfied their desires.

“Did you mean it?” Fuuma whispers against Kento’s lips, and it takes Kento a second to process the words. “It’s okay if you don’t, it’s just. I did mean it, so…”

“It’s never been like that before,” Kento tells him, bringing up a hand to stroke Fuuma’s face. His skin is so soft, so warm, and Kento still wants to touch him everywhere now that he basically already has. “I’m okay with seeing what happens here if you are.”

Fuuma nods so fast that sweat flies from his hair again, hitting Kento in the face just like something else had a few moments prior, and Fuuma laughs so hard that he shakes Kento’s body on top of his. Kento joins him, flinging it right back into Fuuma’s face after he wipes his own, and the laughter continues until Fuuma pulls him down for another kiss.

“I don’t think I can use your first name in public, though,” Fuuma says sheepishly, and Kento jerks when he feels fingers drifting lightly along his side. “Because all I’ll think about is saying it like this.”

“As long as you use it in private,” Kento agrees.

“Oh, I will,” Fuuma promises, smirking just like before, and Kento wonders what he just got himself into.


End file.
